Between
by Cherie-24-Addict
Summary: "My words are stilted and rough, nervous and unsure, tender and guarded." On Day 4, Tony's main objective is to make some sense of everything that has happened - and assure his Michelle that he still loves her. Title is name of the song by Vienna Teng.


**A/N: I love Tony. And Michelle. And TnM. I think they deserved a lot more than they got, so I decided to write a little tribute to the moments leading up to their reconciliation in Day 4, from Tony's point of view. Please read and review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own 24 (or Tony Almeida, as much as I wish otherwise). I do not own the song "Between" either- that's property of singer Vienna Teng.**

24: Between

_We are not together here, though we lie entwined_

_To make room for the other presence, we both draw back in our minds_

_I have a prophecy threatening to spill into words_

_This growing certainty of over_

A multitude of emotions race through my veins as I stare at the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her skin is just as white, as creamy, and her chocolate eyes are just as soulful. But something about her is different than how she was when I last saw her. In that brown suit jacket, with her hair straightened and pulled back into some bizarre half up and half down updo, she doesn't look like herself. She looks more like one of those stiff little bureaucrats with no life than my Michelle, who laughs and cries, who feels emotion but is strong, who is a competent analyst _and_ a kickass field agent, who sucks at cooking but still tries to make coffee in the morning anyway because she knows that's the only way I'll be pleasant enough to work at 7 AM.

I can't shove these thoughts, these memories, out of my mind, no matter how I try. But that's the only place they'll remain, is in my head. It's been six months since she left me. Six months that I've gone to bed remembering the citrus smell of her hair, the silky feel of her skin, the soprano lilt of her laugh. And it'll be over fifty years more that I have to remember the best three years of my life, before I screwed it up and made it all go away. Before I made _her_ go away.

_There once was a time I was sure of the bond_

_When my hands and my tongue and my thoughts were enough_

_We are the same, but our lives move along_

_And the third one between replaces what once was love_

Once upon a time, I would have asked her to stay with me. I would have promised her to change. I would have talked to her about what was bothering me, about the hell I went through in prison. I wouldn't have taken no for an answer.

But happily ever after has been torn out of my grasp. And now, as I work at CTU once again, the place I'd sworn I would never return to, I must watch her balance her awkwardness with me, her obviously close relationship with Bill Buchanan from Division, and the threat of a nuclear warhead. She can handle her job, as can I, as can Bill, but sooner or later, she'll reach the breaking point.

If I could, I'd take her into my arms, let her sob into my shoulder as I held her to my chest. I'd whisper into her ear how much I love her, how much I always will love her, and that she's doing an amazing job, even though her energy is obviously drained; that everything good that's happening now is because she's here to make the right call. Less than two years ago, I would have done this in a heartbeat. But now, it's not enough for me to want this to happen; she has to want me to hold her as well. Fat chance of that happening, huh?

_Freedom is being alone; I fear liberation_

_But something more alive than silence swallows conversation_

_No pleasing drama in subtle, averted eyes_

_The swelling fermata as the chord dies_

I hate being without her. I miss being able to do everything with her, always having her to lean on, being there for her to lean on me. I miss my best friend. I miss my partner. I miss my wife. The name _Michelle Dessler_ sums up everything that I've ever wanted and needed – and more. I don't care what happens after today, as long as I can just let her know that my offer still stands…it always has.

I take a deep breath and turn to face her, remembering how perfectly her soft curves fit in my arms and how beautiful she is when she's maneuvering around the house in my old Cubs t-shirt, with no makeup on and frizzy curls sticking out in all different directions. I remember how much comfort I find in her, how much better my life was when I had her to talk to.

"Michelle…" My words are stilted and rough, nervous and unsure, tender and guarded. My voice cracks as I finally whisper the words that I've wanted to fall off of my tongue for the past six months. "I hate being without you."

_There once was a time I was sure of the bond_

_When my hands and my tongue and my thoughts were enough_

_We are the same, but our lives move along_

_And the third one between replaces what once was love_

Silence. It's the only thing that seems to be a constant in our relationship these days. For the first time in years, I'm honestly not sure what her response will be. What will she do? She still loves me, I can feel it. But will she take me back, or will she continue to live her life without me?

"I never wanted it to be this way," she whispers, her voice shaking as she stares at her unadorned hand, the hand that used to wear a plain gold band.

I remember the other times her voice shook like that, times where she tried to hide her emotions in order to do her job but simply couldn't. I remember the feel of her lips softly on mine, again and again, tasting of anguish, joy, need, and love. I remember a time when I could get lost in her and never wanted to be found. If life hadn't gotten in the way, I'd still be there.

I almost pull her into my arms and kiss her softly, right then and there. But then the phone rings for Director Dessler, and my Michelle must resume her managerial duties once again. She's too good at her job and too good of a person not to answer, and I know that she'd probably be better off without me, even though I'm incapable of being in a good place without her.

_There's no denying we feel the third one; we do_

_I'm tired of hiding, and so are you_

Has it really only been two hours since that happened? Two hours since I admitted to Michelle that there was no way in hell that I would ever stop loving her? Two hours since she showed me that she felt the exact same way?

It's been one hour since she flung herself into my arms and I kissed her gently, and she told me, "I'm ready to go with you. I'm ready to leave CTU."

It's been twenty long minutes since the hostile blew up that car in the parking lot. Twenty minutes in which Michelle has begun to believe that I'm dead. Jack saved me, and now, it's just a matter of time before everyone learns the truth. I feel like I'm in a kind of trance as Jack hands me his cell phone so that I can talk to her.

"Michelle?"

I hear her swallow a sob. "Tony?" she whispers, her voice cracking.

I rush through explaining to her what happened at the apartment complex and how Jack managed to figure out I was still alive and being held captive. That's not the important part; it never was, it's not now, and it never will be. The important thing now is that I see her as soon as possible.

"Honey," I whisper, lowering my voice. "I love you."

She lets out a breath that I doubt she realized she was holding. "I love you, Tony," she says, a sob quickly exiting her throat.

I hang up the phone and realize just how lucky I am that things are starting to feel all right again.

_There once was a time I was sure of the bond_

_When my hands and my tongue and my thoughts were enough_

_We are the same, but our lives move along_

_And the third one between replaces what once was love_

Once upon a time, I would have been skeptical of having a loving relationship with a woman I trusted. Once upon a time, I didn't believe in any incarnation of love. I thought that I would be alone forever. I almost was.

It doesn't matter now, as I walk down the hall that was so familiar to me during my time at CTU. As I walk past former and current colleagues, I start to get tunnel vision – all I can see is Michelle, the woman of contradictions. A government manager who can't cook toast without burning it to a crisp. An organized woman who can't seem to keep track of her own hair. A forbidding agent whose arms are the best place to turn to after a difficult day at work.

She's my Michelle; strange, full of contradictions, and absolutely perfect. And no matter what crazy scheme is thrown at us, I will always love her for it.

Now, as I walk toward her, she once again catapults herself into my arms, and I squeeze her tight, wanting to make sure that this is real, that she knows that everything stacked against us has been torn down.

"Oh, God, I love you," she whispers through her tears. "I didn't know how much until I thought I lost you. I…"

I seal the deal with a simple, pure kiss on the lips and hold her to me, glad to, once again, have her here. This is all I need. _She's_ all I need. And I'm ready to begin with her again, to start anew.

Someone very dear to my wife and I once told her to "Find something you want to do, and go for it. Everything else is just background noise." I smile into her hair as I realize, I finally blocked it all out. Everything else is gone. It's just her.

_Michelle._


End file.
